Page 32 of The Bratva King's Kidnapped Bride

She was willowy and blonde, and as she got closer, she looked shockingly like a much prettier version of Aleks. She had the same straight nose as Nat, too, so definitely related.

“I’m Mila,” she said. “Don’t get up.” She leaned over and kissed both my cheeks in a European sort of way, then flopped into the chair next to me. “I’m Aleks’s baby sister. Have you heard of me? I’m the only girl sibling. I’m sorry we’re just meeting, but I hope we’ll be best friends.”

I was a bit shocked by her, but her eyes were full of sincerity, so I eagerly agreed. I hadn’t realized I had grown lonely without Aleks around during the day, and Olga was only there every other day and had her own work to do.

Mila wanted to hear all about the wedding, bitter she wasn’t invited to be a witness. After I told her a few details, she launched into big plans for a real wedding when things calmed down.

“What things?” I pounced, hoping to get some answers out of Aleks’s very chatty sister.

The chatty sister instantly clammed up, shrugging. “Oh, overseas nonsense. It’s super boring.”

“But you’re in the family business, too, right? What do you do?”

“This and that,” she said, the same look on her face that Aleks got when dodging my questions. “The guys want me to learn everything, so sometimes I’m at a restaurant, and sometimes I’m in one of the offices. I’m good with people, so I’m kind of a fixer.”

“What do you fix?” I asked, dying for a straight answer.

“Oh, this and that. Whatever’s broken.”

It was a good thing not getting straight answers wasn’t actually fatal. I understood their business was probably complicated, but being left out was frustrating. Maybe they actually thought I’d find it boring. How could I, when my new husband was the most fascinating man I’d ever met. I longed to know all of it, down to the smallest detail.

She then asked me if I wanted to know all her favorite shops in Beverly Hills, and I found that I did. As big and sumptuous as the estate was, I hadn’t left since the day we went to retrieve my things. I needed a day out on the town, and was happy to spend it with Mila, who was gregarious and had instantly accepted me.

Despite the fact she was only a year older than me, she didn’t make any noises about it. Like me, she trusted Aleks, and like me, she wanted him to be happy. I burst with pride that I was one of the things that made him happy enough for her to so readily accept me as a family member.

I was shy at first about choosing anything for myself, but Mila’s enthusiasm for putting together the perfect outfit was infectious. She was passionate about fabrics the way I was about picking the best tomato of the bunch. After a whirlwind couple of hours, we were laden down with bags and boxes from some of the ritziest shops in Beverly Hills. Since they all knew Mila by name, we were welcomed with open arms, tea and cookies, and often, champagne, so I was a bit tipsy by the time we got back to the mansion.

Giggling and starving, once we dumped our packages in the entry hall, we raided the fridge and set ourselves up in one of the cozier sitting rooms to wait for Aleks to come home. I cracked open a bottle of wine for us since I was having such a great time, and felt like I was on the way to a true friendship with Mila.

The loneliness of the past two weeks had been alleviated, but as much as we laughed together, sadness and guilt lurked at the edges of my good mood.

Aleks’s sister was just one more person who would hate me when I left.

Chapter 18 - Aleksandr

It had been a shitty day. I arrived late at the skirmish that had broken out at the same bar we’d chased away our new enemies just a few weeks before. They were growing bolder, already acting like the territory was theirs. The dust was still swirling from the fight when I burst in, ready to drop anyone who didn’t belong there just to make a point.

The employees were scared and angry, threatening to quit but thankfully unharmed. Expensive bottles of liquor were broken, bar stools smashed, and some of the old vinyl booths had been slashed with knives. Just pure destruction and waste.

The worst was that Lev and Dimitry had both been hurt badly enough to require stitches. Another few inches and Dima’s knife wound might have been much worse. Lev was furious, spitting out his rage at me as I tried to stanch our younger brother’s bleeding while we waited for our private medic to patch him up.

“Do you see now, Dima?” he snarled. “Do you understand there’s no reasoning with this group?”

Our usually stoic brother, who’d been firmly on the side of diplomacy up until now, nodded, too weak to talk. His eyes showed he agreed with Lev now, filled with the same pain and anger.

By the time I got back home, I was still fuming. My fists clenched and unclenched as I stormed toward the stairs. My plan was to try and wash it all away under a scorching hot shower so that Katie wouldn’t worry, but I heard her laughter tinkle out from her favorite sitting room and had to have a peek at my bride.

She sat with her back to me on one of the cream-colored sofas, and my sister sat next to her, holding a wine glass. At something Mila said, Katie threw back her head and laughed again, leaning forward to take hold of her own wine glass. As her delicate hand guided the glass to her ruby lips, warmth and serenity washed over me.

What was this magic that Katie held? Just a glimpse of her and the sound of her happy laughter was enough to erase all my stress. My employees’ trepidation, my brothers’ anger, the worry about what kind of toll the increasing escalation with our enemies would bring, was gone, just like that.

I was completely calm as I stood just out of their sight in the doorway, thrilled that Katie and Mila had clicked and were possibly on their way to a true sisterhood.

Could I finally be getting the family I always wanted?

Mila had been a baby when I married my first wife, and she’d been indifferent to the infant at first. She turned utterly cruel to Mila when our own child was born, jealous of my affection for my sister and constantly comparing her to Nataliye. I saw no reason to compare them. It was slightly comical to me that my parents had a surprise baby late in their lives, but Mila brought all of us so much joy.

Of course, nothing could compare to the love I felt for my daughter when I first held her, squirming and squalling. It was foolish to compare the two. I would have died for either of them, or both, if necessary. I thought the jealousy would fade, but it only got worse.

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